Introducing Sandy Black-Malfoy
by xKristyLynn
Summary: Everything over here in the UK is all backwards. That's what I get for thinking going to a magical school might be exciting. Hopefully the women will at least be interesting. Maybe I can even figure out what the big deal about this Potter guy is and why Drakey wants to be better than him at everything. Whatever. -AU, Begins 4th Year, FOC/FC. ;)


**Introducing Sandy Black-Malfoy**

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_Chapter One  
Introducing Sandy_

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Up and down. If you don't do the movements slowly, you aren't going to build your muscle properly. What's the point of doing all of this shit if my muscles aren't going to be built properly? Up and down. Up. Down. Slow. Fuck, it's starting to burn. The sweat feels good though. My waist band is going to be soaked by the time I'm done today. Lets see. Up. Down. That makes twenty-five. I can still do more, though. I can keep going. Don't stop.

That's the key.

Do. No. Stop.

That's the problem with Draco, though. In our family, we're always taught: Do not stop. That's fine and dandy. I believe in that. Don't stop. Keep going. Push yourself further and when you can't push anymore, keep going. That's even been the philosophy I've lived by since I was old enough to understand it. And it's working out for me, it really is. But Draco... my poor, bratty cousin; he doesn't know when it's actually better to stop. Always getting into trouble, that one. Good thing I'll be around this year to protect his ass from getting walked all over. God forbid someone actually calls him out on his shit for once. Though, from what I understand, that Potter boy is giving him a run for his money.

God, I need a shower. I can't feel my arms. Actually, I can, and I don't like it. I don't know how much I'll be able to work out in Hogwarts, though. Might as well get in the last really good work outs while I can. If I start running toward the lake now, I'd get there in just under thirty minutes. I'd have a while to dip in and relax before needing to be back in time to shower and dress for dinner. That's fine. I really don't understand the way everyone thinks around here. I was probably better off staying home. Why did Dorothy have to die though? No- no, don't think about Dorothy. Legs, feeling the burning in your legs, Sandy, keep going. Pump faster. Good. Breathe. Good.

What's with all the blood purity? Who even came up with the idea? This Dark Lord dude is seriously lacking in the logic department. It's almost like Hitler all over again. Uncle Luce is a trip. How can he believe that crap? At least Aunt Cissy gets it. She knows it's all bullshit power playing. Whatever. I wonder if I'd actually be able to reunite her with Uncle Sirius. That'd be interesting. Everyone here is so willing to believe everything I say. Why is that? Are they really that in need of someone being truthful that they just accept an outsider like this? I mean, sure, I don't really lie, but who's to say I'm not actually part of this whole conspiracy? Afterall, I am the bastard love child of Regulus Black and Cindy Malfoy (though no one's heard much about Cindy Malfoy, the rumored squib cousin of Lucius Malfoy). The simple fact that my mother was, indeed, a squib, and that I am so inconceivably magical- well that should prove everyone wrong, shouldn't it? I mean, there's only three other witches and wizards I've ever met who don't need to sleep. And one of them is my cousin and doesn't even realize she doesn't need to sleep. Ah, the pros of being a Metamorphmagus. It's so stupid the way everyone's willing to just get by here. Look at Draco: he's got a knack for charms. Truly, he's gifted in the subject. He gets it. We were having a debate on the usefulness of the alohomora unlocking charm... the things he came up with. I mean, he's actually pretty unique and creative when you push him to it. But then again, he's never actually thinking for himself, it's fucking frustrating. Speak of the devil, there the pretty boy is now.

"Draco!" Aw, that's cute, he's trying to run like I suggested. Look! His cheeks are all pink. And, my God, is his hair actually messy? "Running to the lake?"

He looks like a frustrated worm, the way he twists his face to answer. "I don't-" He shouldn't gasp like that, "know how-" he's going to end up, "you find-" getting sick, "this fun."

I'm guessing he doesn't like that I can shrug my shoulders and backwards in front of him, but I like rubbing his face in this personal achievement. He can have all the money and titles his little heart desires, I still have a better body than him. "It's relaxing. Almost like a form of meditation. I think that may be a problem with our family, you know. Do you know what depression is? I'll give you a book on it. Very interesting stuff, the brain. Anyway, healers over in America who study the brain have found that people who have dark, sad, gloomy thoughts usually embrace a happier, more satisfying mindset if they meditate daily. Add to that the actual chemical differences in your body when you've been exercising and you have a great time." Aw, smirking makes him speed up a little! I wonder if he's trying to catch me. I shouldn't tease so much, though. I am trying to get along with the twerp. "Plus, working out makes your body look good. Girls love a guy who's good looking. And a girl."

Is he still not used to the idea that I like women? Oh well. "How much- do you- run?" "Depends on how I'm feeling. Usually I run until I tire. I find it makes it easier for me to think later. And my magic flows more readily. I'd say I run about ten miles a day? More if I'm stressed out." He looks like he doesn't understand. "A little more than 16 kilometers."

Now he looks like he understands, but doesn't want to. "Don't worry, Drake. You don't have to run as much as me. I just think you'll like it more once you get better at it. And you'll see an improvement in your Quidditch skills, definitely. Maybe you'll even be able to beat that Wonder-Boy-Who's-Alive you talk about so menacingly."

Is that really all it takes to motivate him? Mention this Potter kid and he gets a weird gleam in his eye. What did the boy even do to get on his bad side? Besides being at the wrong place at the wrong time? I'd ask him, but every time I do he flies off the handle and starts ranting and I just loose myself in distractions. Maybe Uncle Sirius will introduce me to him. He is his Godfather, after all. While it took longer to get to the lake than I expected (what with running beside Drake and not wanting to push him too hard) there's still plenty of time to bask in the cool water before I need to head back. Draco's staring at my body again. Pervert. "Draco, wanting to fuck your cousin is illegal where I'm from."

This shakes him and it's hard to keep a straight face. Then his face gets even redder. Maybe he's a metamorphmagus, too? "I wasn't-" his spluttering is so endearing, it really is. "Er- I- Sandy! Don't be daft. I just- your tattoos." I feel a bit better, now. He's pointing to my back and side. "I just haven't gotten to look at them. I've only ever seen the Dark Mark."

I nod and walk closer, turning my back. "These are magical tattoos, too. See how some of them seem deeper, some of them seem more real and what not?"

He's looking at each of them. I have quite a few, only a handful are currently visible, though. I don't like wearing my heart on my sleeve, and I don't like having people know what my armour is. It's harder to find the chinks in the chain if you can't see it, see? "I have many. These are the harmless, artsy ones. I designed most of them, except for the kaleidoscope one. That's a gift from a very talented friend after Mum died. It's forever changing. Even the colors."

I guess I'm silent for a while, thinking about Mum and her long blonde hair and the way she smelled more wonderful than the best freshly baked cookie because suddenly Draco, for the first time since we met at the beginning of the summer, is putting his hand on my shoulder, comforting me. "What was she like? Father never speaks much about our family except to say how well everyone's doing in the world. He hardly ever mentioned Aunt Cindy. Actually, all I really know about her is that she looks a lot like Grandmamere and was good at baking, and Mum told me that."

That's stupid. I hate getting angry, but this pisses me off. Just because my mum was a squib, Uncle Lucius thinks it's pointless to talk about her? She was an amazing woman! I can't yell at Draco for his dad, though. I know he's not the one ignoring her existence, though he does seem to be a bit prejudiced. I shake my head. "Good doesn't cover it. She was amazing at baking. Phenomenal."

I start toward the water and throw off my shoes and socks, diving right in. It's the perfect amount of cold and refreshing. I've always loved water. Always. So did Mum. Draco joins me as I'm floating on my back, staring up at the clouds. "She fled to America after she got pregnant, and my Dad was setting up everything for them to get married and live there under different names so no one could trace them back to Black or Malfoy. Because of the war, you know? So he was able to set up everything in order for Mum to have a huge plot of land in New York, as well as more than enough money to have us considered to be filthy rich. But he died, was killed actually, before he could join us."

I think this is the longest I've been in Draco's presence without him talking. Running must have tired him out. "She had me there, in that house, but it was lonely for us. And she figured out soon enough that I was special, and that I was magical." I turn my head to look at him. "She was a squib, by the way. That's probably why you haven't heard much about her. But, fuck, Drake. She was a wizard with Ancient Runes and Baking.

"She loved languages. And traveling. And I was right there with her. We went everywhere, practically. And she didn't ignore my magical side, in fact she got me special tutors and I've taken international tests in most subjects anyway. But when she grew up, she didn't have much exposure to the muggle world while at the same time always being shunned in the magical world, so I guess she wanted me to know everything about both. I mean, I don't mind. I love learning. I don't ever want to stop. There's just so much out there!

"Anyway, yeah, Mum. She opened a cafe, bakery style place in the small town we lived near. It was amazing. She had a magical side and a muggle side alike. Quite a few magicals would catch up with muggle news there, actually. Three couples met there who later got married, that we know of. It was amazing. Cindy's Sippery, we called it. It did really well, and we lived there almost as much as we lived at home.

"She was also talented in painting. While she couldn't do shit with numbers, she could paint like a true artist. The entire cafe was covered in her work and the work of our favorite customers. Some of the walls were even painted by her. And I helped out some, too, since I liked painting... but I really only did it because I liked what she did."

It's probably time to go. I can feel the sun coloring my skin, and dear Draco will likely look slightly less pasty, thank God. It's amazing people don't mistake him for a ghost. "Why don't we head back?"

The jog back was easier. At least, for me it was. I kept a nice easy pace for my darling cousin and even introduced him to the muggle music I kept on me at all times. It's amazing what technology mixed with a bit of magic can do. The speakers I'd bought and charmed myself were unique in that you could make them sound as if you were completely surrounded by the music. Uncle Lucius will no doubt think I've completely corrupted his darling son by the end of the month, if my cousin's interest in music doesn't die down. And he definitely seems like he's holding back in asking about it. It won't last.

"Master Draco and Mistress Sandy, dinner will be in forty-three minutes." Dipsy, the house elf, ever the charmer, was something of a mess when I showed up. On top of everything else backward about this society, house elves were still allowed to be beaten. Uncle Lucius hadn't even read the studies proving the depleting magic in beaten elves. It was just another thing I had to add to my list of why my family is fucked up.

"Thank you, Dipsy. Hey, Drake?" He stopped, looking thoroughly winded as we reached the porch and the doors swung open. "Good job. If you'd like, I can show you some books I have on magical potions and exercises that help with all of this later?"

His lips pursed. He'd bitten his tongue a lot today. The constant battle between wanting to know more about the muggle world, about my lifestyle that I refused to push to the side when I got here, and his backward upbringing was wearing him out. "Alright."

Maybe this year wouldn't be so bad.

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_**A/N: **Hello. I'm interested in hearing back from y'all. Thoughts/comments/suggestions welcome, though I already have an idea of where this is going. I've withheld a lot of information in this chapter purposefully, so you'll figure out age/skills/all-that-goodness when the time comes. Thanks you._


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